


The Game of Chance

by Are



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Are/pseuds/Are
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot. Jimmy and Thomas bet on everything. And I do mean everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game of Chance

It always made Thomas unhappy when people spoke ill of Jimmy Kent- however with most people Thomas could now simply pull rank, and force them into silence. The slightly- _only_ slightly- derisive air which Mrs. Hughes- and Mr. Carson- were always possessed when they spoke of Jimmy was not lost on Thomas, though- and about the opinions of his superiors Thomas could do nothing. Well- Thomas couldn't _alter_ anyone's opinion, not really- but it pained him that people did not see Jimmy's admirable qualities, as he did. It was fifty percent love and the other half egotism: Thomas could not ignore the similarities between himself and Jimmy. Perhaps he had been spoken of in the same fashion through his years of employment- and _unemployment_ \- at Downton. It seemed very likely.

Thomas thought it was his great misfortune that he and Jimmy should be so alike in many aspects- but not the one which would have granted him Jimmy's love: Jimmy was different, profoundly different from Thomas in _that_ way. Jimmy- if he could ever manage to be decent or sociable for any length of time- would find a wonderful- or _dull_ \- girl who drew a breath of delight at his every word and step, much as Thomas did- and he would marry her. And live some lovely little life. This was _if_ Jimmy ever managed to become someone pleasant himself, which Thomas sometimes doubted.

When they had arranged their truce Thomas has suspected it was mostly out of guilt, on Jimmy's part- but no matter. They could become friends- Thomas had it within him to be a perfectly charming comrade- and they would be close, quite close and warm to one another, and revel in their complimentary attitudes towards everything. They might even be co-conspirators, after a fashion- someone with whom to gripe about the myriad injustices of work . Thomas had an idea- it wasn't _love_ , it wasn't what he would have chosen- but it was, still, a pretty image- of being the last souls in the servant's hall on some late evenings- Thomas reading aloud- or Jimmy playing on the piano- and cigarettes, and laughter-

But events did not procced in that exact fashion. Well. It _was_ like that, but also it wasn't. Jimmy was _nice_ , at first, of course- painfully so- and much given to sad looks and gentle inquiries- but after a while it had eased up, and by the time Matthew Crawley had been buried a year, they were _actually_ friends. Jimmy sought Thomas out- Jimmy _did_ want to do things with him, above everybody else- but it wasn't in the spirit of some considerate or benign companionship.

The thing about Jimmy was this: he was _competitive_. When Thomas engaged in competition it was for a direct purpose- scaling the ladder of employment, for example- and there was nothing lighthearted about it. Thomas could be ruthless, to satisfy his own ends. But Jimmy was different- the ways he competed with Thomas bore no resemblance to the way he'd jockeyed with Alfred for the position of first footman. That had been like children elbowing each other in a schoolroom. With Thomas, Jimmy acted differently- it was not elbowing but _fencing._ Or something more intimate: sparring.

The week that had marked the one-year anniversary of Matthew Crawley's most unfortunate demise had been a somber one. The MacClares- save for Lady Rose- were in India, and so there had been no trip up to Duneagle, and no respite from the family all summer long.

Still the summer chores had to be done- and Jimmy had been sent up to London in the automobile, early Saturday morning, to retrieve new uniforms for the male staff. Thomas wouldn't have minded it himself- a day of travel, where cuffs and collars were the greatest of his concerns- but Carson had needed him for other tasks.

Jimmy didn't return until the middle of dinner- and he sat down at the table without going upstairs. In his hand Jimmy held a neatly folded newspaper- this he threw at Thomas unceremoniously. "Got you that," Jimmy said, meeting Thomas's eyes.

"How did London find you today, James?" Carson asked, between mannered bites of food.

"It was fine," Jimmy said, as Thomas unfolded the newspaper. "Raining," Jimmy added, with a half-smile.

Jimmy had brought him a specialty newspaper. It was the _Illustrated London News,_ that day's copy. Somehow Jimmy had kept it dry- no rain spotting marred the ostentatiously large photo that graced the front page: the celebrity wedding of Lord Louis Mountbatten to Edwina Cynthia Annette Ashley.

Alfred was reading a copy of _Pearson's_ magazine aloud to Mrs. Hughes. "Mrs. Wynand's column suggests that you should state one thing you like about yourself aloud to the mirror each morning to promote... uh... a healthy self-esteem," Alfred said. "Hmm."

"Sounds like rot to me," Jimmy offered- and faced Thomas. "I got you the one with the largest photographs," Jimmy said, smirking. "Wouldn't want to overtax your intellect, Mr. Barrow."

"Mmm," Thomas said, easily. "I'm sure your eye was drawn immediately to the most ostentatious thing."

Thomas could feel Mr. Carson's attention on the pair of them, as if he might have to step in. Carson's protectiveness was relatively new- a year or two old, no more- and a bit insulting. _As if I need to be protected,_ Thomas thought, _and from Jimmy of all people._ But Carson did not have to intervene. The exchange held none of those simmering hostilities that had once been between them, always falling from Jimmy's lips. Thomas suspected that in Jimmy's mind the pair of them were best mates, even- Jimmy was like that. He brought Thomas the paper all the way from London, and said something insulting- but still, he brought Thomas the paper. In _Thomas's_ mind they were best mates, anyhow- though it didn't stop Thomas from being in love with Jimmy. The friendship Jimmy had offered was more of a burn than a balm- each day it was a bit harder for Thomas to stifle his feelings, brought about by Jimmy's constant proximity. But it was a burn Thomas adored- he held it close, unwilling to give it up for less painful things.

"Well, I think I'm proud of my cooking," Alfred was saying, to Anna. "That pudding I made last week was top-notch, even Mrs. Patmore said so."

"I suppose I'd say I'm proud of my perseverance," Anna answered in turn, and slid her glance over to Mr. Bates. "Especially about important things. What about you?"

Bates considered this with an expression of amusement. "I'd say I have good taste," Bates said, looking directly at his wife, and Anna put her hand over his, smiling. "Not _all_ the time," Anna answered, quietly, and they shared some look, heavy with meaning and adoration, between them. Across from Thomas, Jimmy rolled his eyes elaborately. "What about you?" Alfred asked Jimmy. "My luck," Jimmy answered immediately, and Thomas scoffed. "You can't be _proud_ of luck, it's not a _quality_ ," Thomas said- and Jimmy frowned.

"And it's _luck_ , it could desert you at any moment," Thomas went on, just to see Jimmy's look of affront- and sure enough Jimmy scowled at him.

"Mr. _Barrow_ \- when you get to him- is goin' to say he's proud of his _cleverness_ ," Jimmy retorted- "But I don't know _why_ he'll say it, when it's obvious-"

"James, I see no cause for rudeness," Mr. Carson said- and Jimmy was about to make a noise of indignant protest- but Carson rose, forcing them all to stand in turn. "I must attend to some things," Mr. Carson said- "Please- everybody- make an effort to turn in at a _reasonable_ hour this evening."

Carson gave Thomas a _look_ , as if Thomas should inquire as to whether or not Carson required help with any of the vague 'things' he needed to apply himself to- probably the schedule, or something- but Thomas stared deliberately at his paper, until Carson turned away. _My work day is done, you old dictator,_ Thomas thought, sitting again.

It was true that they had all been staying up rather late. It was the card-tournaments that had done it- nothing informal, just nighttime games- but everyone participated, nearly. It wasn't for money- and Jimmy typically won any game they chose- but sometimes Bates or Alfred or even Molesley would participate. It had lent some lighter atmosphere to the environment, especially as the grim anniversary of Matthew Crawley's death had encroached upon them, and ultimately passed them by. If the spirit was _very_ competitive on any evening they might even gamble- not for coin but for chores- Thomas had come in last one evening and been awarded a week of silver polishing, cast off on him courtesy of Jimmy and Alfred. He had immediately in turn passed this chore off on the hallboys, much to Jimmy's irritation. "I wanted to see you as you were in your footman days," Jimmy had said- and Thomas had smirked, and replied- " _You_ don't have to do it, so what are you complaining for?"

"What about you, Mrs. Hughes?" Alfred said now, and Mrs. Hughes considered this, as she rose from the table. "I'd say I'm a good judge of character," Mrs. Hughes said- and Thomas spared her a smile, as she left.

"I'm in a winning way, I think," Thomas said, as the table was cleared. Jimmy produced his cards and shuffled them with a dramatic flair. "I'll even help your perfect _luck_ along, Jimmy. You can pick the game for tonight."

"Four or five?" Jimmy asked, eyeing the table- and Anna shook her head. "I'll sit by, but I have sewing," Anna said.

"Four, then," Jimmy said, pulling his chair closer- and Thomas lit a cigarette as Jimmy dealt out a hand. "Fools and Kings."

"I don't know it," Alfred said, setting his magazine aside. Under the table Jimmy's foot tapped against Thomas's ankle. This was typical. When they had first started playing and Jimmy had bumped his foot against Thomas's leg every time he had won a hand, Thomas had thought Jimmy was trying to institute some elaborate method of cheating- a code, between the two of them: but Jimmy played as ruthlessly against Thomas as he did against everybody else. More, even.

Thomas outlined the rules for Alfred. "The black threes clear a pile, and all the twos, but-"

"That's stupid- the _black_ threes? I play jacks," Jimmy said, but Thomas ignored him. "The _proper_ way to play is with the black threes to clear," Thomas said to Alfred, as if they had not been interrupted.

They played a hand- Thomas shed all of his cards first, and was crowned King, with Bates as a Lord and Jimmy a Commoner. Alfred came in last: the Fool.

"King switches your two worst cards with the Fool's two best," Jimmy said, and Alfred groaned when Thomas passed him a red three and a useless four.

Jimmy looked rather put out, honestly. Under the table his foot tapped against Thomas's leg. "it's this stupid three thing, it's messing me up," Jimmy muttered.

"Well, perhaps your excellent luck will save you," Thomas said- and Bates snorted. Jimmy got red in the face. "Best out of five," Jimmy muttered. Next Bates won, and Jimmy- somehow- ended up in last place.

"Not so lucky tonight, hmm?" Thomas asked, after Jimmy had lost several more hands- his agitation increasing each time he failed to come in first- and Jimmy glared at him. "Go on with yourself, you- you- _cheat_ with your damned fake _rules_ ," Jimmy snapped- and he slammed away from the table, to bang out some tune on the piano. Jimmy's obvious- and _dramatic-_ frustration made Thomas laugh- and Alfred and Bates laughed, as well- Anna was not paying attention. The music got louder and louder as they laughed, until Jimmy whirled round to glare at all of them, and began laughing himself.

"You're such a poor sport, it's unbelievable," Alfred said, and Jimmy shook his head helplessly _no_ , still chuckling.

"Be easy on him, it's his Lady Luck who's abandoned him," Bates said, handing Alfred his two best cards.

"You know how touchy people get after a relationship has dissolved," Thomas added, with a grin- and he wondered if it could possibly be that they were all now, somehow, friends.

Jimmy stayed with Thomas when everyone else had gone- and they played twenty-one, instead, which Jimmy was far better at. Jimmy came round the table after a while, to sit at Thomas's elbow and study the newspaper with him.

"I don't know why you're so interested, you must've read it all on the drive home," Thomas said- but Jimmy shook his head. "No," Jimmy said, turning a page before Thomas had quite finished it. "I didn't want to ruin the paper. Before you got a chance to read it, I mean."

"Very thoughtful," Thomas said, dryly- but it _was_ very thoughtful. Jimmy leaned too close against him, so that his hair brushed Thomas's cheek, and Thomas gritted his teeth and resolutely ignored Jimmy's proximity.

"Are you really going to the fair at the end of the week?" Jimmy asked- and Thomas nodded, identifying the emotion on Jimmy's face as concern. "If Mr. Carson lets me. Which he said he would- the family's going to be out all night-"

"He shouldn't let you," Jimmy said, a dark edge to his voice. "It's too dangerous. Y'nearly _died_ last time-"

Thomas laughed, at Jimmy glared at him. "Calm yourself," Thomas said, putting a cigarette between his own lips. "I didn't nearly _die._ And as long as _you_ refrain from-"

"I won't _gamble_ , I won't _drink_ , I won't do the bloody _rope_ pull, I won't have any fun, because you're going to make me nervous the entire time," Jimmy muttered- and he jammed his knuckle into Thomas's side, with a sound of annoyance. Thomas elbowed him smartly in return. "I love how you paint it, as if _I_ were the one who'd gotten my fool self in trouble," Thomas said- and Jimmy snorted. "You _were_ , weren't you? Did I ask you to follow me?"

"Ah- no, of course you didn't," Thomas said, feeling stupid- and Jimmy shook his head, pulling back his mouth in obvious chagrin. "Well, I'll ask you to follow me _this_ time," Jimmy said, putting a hand on Thomas's forearm. "Everywhere. Even if I have to piss. Promise. An' if we get in trouble I'll fight _with_ you, y'know-"

"Very comforting," Thomas said- and he moved his arm, before Jimmy's touch could give him thoughts he should not have. Well- Thomas had those thoughts all the time anyways. But normally he saved them for private moments, when he was alone-

"And I wasn't _insulting_ you, before," Jimmy added, kicking Thomas's ankle under the table.

"Pardon?" Thomas asked, turning another page of the newspaper.

"I wasn't _insulting_ you, before," Jimmy repeated. "I know you're clever. But you're _brave_ , too. That's all I was going to say. You're so proud of your cleverness but you never think twice about your bravery."

Sometimes Jimmy would make a face- or wear an expression- that was so painfully sincere it hurt Thomas to look at it. It was like that now- Jimmy, with his eyes squinted and his mouth solemn, studied Thomas as if his face held the key to mankind's salvation- and Thomas tried not to blush, under the scrutiny. "You're the bravest man I've ever met," Jimmy said- and he pushed a lock of hair away from his eyes, leaning very close to Thomas. "You know."

"What a sad little life you've lived," Thomas replied- and Jimmy laughed, and kicked Thomas under the table again.

* * *

If Thomas smoked indoors or out Jimmy would sometimes ask for a cigarette- he did on the day of the fair, flinching away from the crowd as if he expected it contained monsters. Thomas was enjoying himself- the fair was larger than it had been the previous year- and a bit later in the month, less sweltering- and _this_ year Jimmy would not be moved from his side, let alone make derisive comments.

"Uh. That's the ticket," Jimmy said, inhaling on the cigarette for so long that he coughed, and exhaling his smoke mostly into Thomas's face. Thomas waved the smoke away, glaring at him, and blew a drag of his own cigarette back at the other man- but Jimmy did not follow through on the game.

It was _Jimmy_ who was worried- his eyes darted everywhere, as if a phantom gang of thugs (or, more aptly, a group of cheated locals-) would appear and drag Thomas off to some untimely death. "You realize you _did_ do something to antagonize them, an' we've done _nothing_ wrong this year," Thomas told him, by way of reassurance, and Jimmy shook his head, as if that were not the point. "These things can happen for any reason," Jimmy said, smoking, and looking so miserable under the brim of his cap that Thomas dragged him away to the ring-toss, just to get his mind off of things. "Oh yes, the _fair_ , the most dangerous place on earth," Thomas intoned lightly, stopping in front of the booth. "I'll have three rounds for myself and my friend," Thomas said, and the man behind the counter took his money and handed him the rings.

"Bet you I'll win in two," Jimmy said, perking up immediately. "Ready?"

" _I'll_ go first, and give you somethin' to strive for," Thomas replied, loftily, and he got his first and third tosses around smaller pegs- with the larger prizes, Thomas knew, they would often cheat, and make the pegs too big.

Then it was Jimmy's turn- and he snorted at Thomas's throws, and screwed up his face in concentration, aiming carefully. " _Careful_ ," Thomas said, in tones of warning, as Jimmy released the first hoop- when Thomas spoke Jimmy faltered, and his ring clattered uselessly down, landing on nothing. "You _arse_ ," Jimmy hissed, glaring at Thomas, and Thomas shrugged his shoulders in absolute nonchalance. "Just thought I saw a gang of blokes comin' over with ill intent," Thomas said- and smiled very nicely at Jimmy, who ignored him pointedly, and threw again.

When it was Thomas's turn again, Jimmy looked at him evilly, stepping close, as if to survey the trajectory of Thomas's throw- and when Thomas pulled his arm back, Jimmy said, very quietly, into his ear: "You look very handsome, doin' that."

Thomas overshot his mark by so much that the ring nearly went off of the far end of the table, and Jimmy laughed lowly, crossing his arms. "Very poor shot," he told Thomas, happily.

"That isn't _fair_ ," Thomas snapped, warring against the embarrassment that must've shown on his face- but Jimmy only smiled, ducking his head. "You started it," Jimmy pointed out, unapologetically.

Thomas missed all three tosses on that turn and the next. Jimmy collected his prize smugly- it was a red-painted cane, with a little half-moon topper, and Jimmy held it jauntily as they walked away. "I think it suits me," Jimmy said, twirling the cane with the same grace that ruled his movements when he shuffled a deck of cards, and Thomas, for a moment, couldn't _look_ at him- it was alright sometimes but it was too much just then- and Jimmy, oblivious, tugged on the cuff of Thomas's shirt. "Let's do the high striker," Jimmy said, spying a barker who stood authoritatively in front of his game- and Thomas followed him, shielding his eyes from the sun. "How about the carousel?" Thomas asked, indicating the ride that churned merrily away across from the tents where people sat and lunched- but Jimmy wrinkled his nose. "That's for children," Jimmy said, dismissively. "I bet I can beat you at this."

They were a close match at the strongman game- but Thomas won, by a hair's breadth- and Jimmy stepped rudely on his toes as they walked away from the game. "It isn't an even test, you _weigh_ more than I do-" Jimmy said. "Mmm. _And_ I'm stronger," Thomas returned. For some reason Thomas had never been tempted to _let_ Jimmy win at anything- love might have compelled him to lose for Jimmy's sake- but pride kept him trying his best. And- and Jimmy always seemed _annoyed_ , when Thomas won something- but he seemed _admiring_ , too, as if Thomas had excelled at some tremendously difficult task. "I think I'll humor you about the carousel after all," Jimmy said, interrupting Thomas's thoughts.

"How generous," Thomas put back, and they walked over to the ride, side by side. The pipe organ played a jaunty tune, and the horses- painted in lively colors- spun round, with benches carved to look like swans situated in between. Jimmy hummed along to the tune- and Thomas squinted at the paintings that ornamented the ride.

There was only a small queue waiting for the next ride- and it was all children, save for Thomas and Jimmy- so Thomas stepped back, to let everyone under the age of twelve get on before him. Jimmy ignored this politeness and climbed on straight away, rsting his moon-topped cane on one of the benches, and situating himself atop a horse with a painted garland of yellow roses in its bridle. Thomas chose a seat next to him, and lit a cigarette. Jimmy was laughing- and Thomas turned to face him, looking at Jimmy's shoulders as they shook with mirth.

"What?" Thomas asked- and this made Jimmy laugh harder. "Just _you,_ " Jimmy said, grinning- "with your suit and your cigarette, on that pony, you look like the world's largest toddler-"

"Most toddlers smoke and wear suits, I know _I_ did," Thomas said. A cool breeze had begun to blow across the fairground, and the music kicked up, again, as the ride started to spin. Jimmy was still laughing- if Thomas looked to his left, he could see the pair of them, reflected in the mirrors that lined the center of the carousel- and he glanced up the length of the golden pole that affixed his horse, to the ceiling, where someone had painted a scene of clouds against a blue sky.

"I bet I can stay standing for the entire ride!" Jimmy shouted, over the music- and Thomas watched as Jimmy stuck his feet firmly into the stirrups, and rose unsteadily, clutching the pole in a deathgrip. "Come on, then!" Jimmy said, when Thomas remained seated- and Thomas stood as well, trying to jam his feet into the too-small stirrups. With one hand he held onto the golden pole above him, clutching it for dear life- with the other, he held his cigarette, bring it unsteadily to his lips. For some reason this made Jimmy laugh all the more. "You're magnificent, you idiot!" Jimmy yelled, perhaps louder than was necessary- even with the volume of the music- and Thomas watched as Jimmy almost lost his balance, with the force of his own exclamation. Thomas threw out his own arm, to break Jimmy's fall- but the fall did not come. "I think you're just showing off!" Jimmy said, recovering himself. "Careful," Thomas said- but still they did not stop their game- and Thomas had to admit that it was more exhilarating, standing up that way- it felt as if he were flying over the countryside.

"This is fun," Thomas said- but he did not say it loudly enough, and his sentiment was lost under the lively organ music.

"I'll call that a draw," Jimmy said, when the carousel had come to a full stop, and they both jumped to the floor.

"That wasn't a draw, I did it one-handed," Thomas answered, as Jimmy collected his cane. " _And_ you nearly fell-"

"But I _caught_ myself, that's something," Jimmy said, glancing sideways at Thomas. "That ride was _very_ romantic," Jimmy said- and then smirked, his expression tinged with wickedness.

"You think you're quite amusing," Thomas retorted, and Jimmy nodded, his expression smug. "Yes," Jimmy answered- he re-affixed his cap, showing, for a moment, a glimpse of his yellow hair, which caught the afternoon light more prettily than any work of art.

"Well," Thomas said, feeling a tightness in his chest- the pain that he had long-warred against- upsurge suddenly.

"Well what?" Jimmy asked, still looking quite pleased.

"Well, _lay off_. I don't like it. It's not a bloody _game_ to me," Thomas said, much more harshly than he'd intended to- and he strode away from Jimmy, scarcely registering the hurt and surprise on Jimmy's face. For a moment he didn't care- Jimmy was his friend but Jimmy was poor even at that, Jimmy was the sort of person who was always trying to suss out what his own particular advantage was, so that he could use it against someone-

Thomas's steps- angry and directionless- took him away from the fair proper- and he realized, with some bitter amusement, that he was walking towards the very bridge under which he had received a trouncing not meant for him. That irritated him as well. Would there ever be a time when he did not put Jimmy above all else? _Yes, right now, starting right now,_ Thomas counseled himself- and he rested his forehead against the cool stone, trying to gather his wits and forget his anger.

The sound of footsteps made Thomas whirl around, and there was Jimmy, his face rather pale, brandishing his newly-won cane, and looking uneasily around at the underside of the bridge. "What are you _doing_?" Jimmy asked, his anxiety expressing itself in the nervous movements of his hands- he half made to reach out to Thomas, and then pulled his arm back, putting his hand to the side of his own neck.

"Call of nature," Thomas said, in a clipped tone- and Jimmy nodded, tersely.

"Well- go ahead, then," Jimmy said. "And then let's get out of here, it isn't safe-"

"It's perfectly _safe_ , don't be stupid, the only thing that ever made it _unsafe_ was you-" Thomas shot back- and Jimmy, his mouth turned down, nodded- and looked down at his own shoes.

"Right, of course," Jimmy said, to the ground- and then he glanced back up at Thomas, meeting his eyes- and he walked over, to stand by Thomas's side. "Might as well," Jimmy said- and he unbuttoned his trousers, facing the wall.

Thomas faced away, blushing, and still more than a bit annoyed- but Jimmy kicked his ankle- and Thomas glanced sharply around, making sure to only look at Jimmy's face. Or, more comfortably, at the far end of the tunnel, beyond Jimmy's shoulder. Yes. That was neutral territory.

"Bet I can piss for longer than you," Jimmy said- and Thomas groaned aloud, making Jimmy laugh. "Tell me you're joking, please," Thomas answered, and Jimmy shook his head. "Never, not ever," Jimmy said. "I'm always being sincere. Y'know?"

"Right," Thomas said, looking away again- and when Jimmy had finished, Thomas flapped his hands at him. "Go up _there,_ I can't with you watchin'," Thomas said- and Jimmy folded his arms. "I'm not going to _watch_ , stupid, it's not a bloody picture show," Jimmy retorted. "But I'm _not_ leavin' you down here to get... to get _accosted_ , or something."

"Jimmy, sometimes you really are-"

"Too much, I know," Jimmy returned, his expression suddenly grave. "So my parents said."

"Everyone's parents say that about them," Thomas muttered, turning towards the wall. "Go over there, please," he told Jimmy- who nodded, and stepped away, to the mouth of the tunnel.

"I don't know why you're so paranoid, anyhow," Thomas said, unbuttoning his trousers. "If any roving gang jumped us, you could just _run_ again, you'd be fine-"

"That's not funny," Jimmy said, from right next to Thomas- and Thomas only just stopped himself from startling, as Jimmy's unexpected proximity. "Go over _there,_ I said, you almost made me ruin my trousers-" Thomas shot back. Jimmy was looking at him- the odd look, full of overbright interest, that he so often cast upon Thomas, right before he made a wager- and Thomas re-buttoned his clothes, and turned to glare at Jimmy. "You're _invasive_ ," Thomas said- and Jimmy snorted with genuine laughter.

" _I'm_ invasive," Jimmy said, following Thomas back into the wide world, where the sunlight was much brighter than the gloomy ambiance that held sway under the bridge. "Me. That's rich. _You're_ the most _invasive_ person I've ever _met_ -"

"Did you follow me down there to apologize, or what?" Thomas asked- and Jimmy stepped in front of him, looking confused. "Yes," Jimmy said, frowning- and with his eyes he searched, up and down Thomas's face. "I did apologize, didn't I?"

"No," Thomas said, flatly, and made to keep walking- but Jimmy stopped him, with a hand pressed flat against his chest.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Barrow," Jimmy said, meeting his eyes with perfect seriousness. "I wouldn't ever want to make you unhappy. You're the only person who loves me. And I-" Jimmy had been perfectly composed- somber, even- but now he faltered, and his eyes searched the ground, as if he were casting around for the remainer of what he had wanted to say. "-and I appreciate that," Jimmy said, after a pause. "More than I can possibly say." Jimmy's voice had grown so low that it was almost unintelligible. "I... I cherish it," Jimmy added, in a mutter- and he looked back up at Thomas, his cheeks red- and dropped his hand from Thomas's chest.

"All right, all right, no need for speeches," Thomas grumbled, to cover how moved he was- and Jimmy bobbed his head, looking relieved, and turned towards the fair again. "I think we should-" Jimmy began- but before he could say what he thought they should do, Alfred was walking towards them, waving. "The motor's leaving," Alfred said, when he got within earshot.

"What?" Jimmy asked. "But it's _early_ , still, it's only-"

"Ivy isn't feeling well, they're takin' her back to the house," Alfred said. "You can stay if you want, but you'll have to find your own way."

"Mr. Barrow?" Jimmy asked, looking to Thomas for a decision- and Thomas shrugged. "We'll come along," he said. "Unless you want to stay for the rope pull."

"Oh, shut it, won't you?" Jimmy asked- but he followed them to the car. "Was she drinking?" Thomas inquired, and Alfred shook his head. "Nah, she wouldn't," Alfred answered, with a touch of reverence in his tone.

"She's just sick and ruining everything for _no_ reason, then," Jimmy said, and Thomas laughed at him. " _You_ didn't even want to come," Thomas reminded Jimmy, who tilted his head to the side, consideringly. "That's true," Jimmy said. "But I was having a good time."

They crowded into the automobile. Thomas offered Ivy the front seat, but she declined, looking rather green- and so Thomas squeezed in, with Mr. Stark driving on one side of him and Alfred sitting far too close to his other elbow. In the back Ivy sat between Daisy and Jimmy, with her head practically resting on Jimmy's lap. " _Don't_ vomit on me," Jimmy said, deep unhappiness evident on his countenance.

"There's no need to be rude, James," Thomas said, half turning around- mostly to see the displeased look that appeared on Jimmy's face when he was chastised. "Poor Ivy's not well."

"I don't see why Mr. Carson wouldn't let us take two cars," Jimmy griped.

The other car was having a dent that Lady Edith had put in it repaired- and Thomas _knew_ that Jimmy knew it. Jimmy _liked_ to complain- it should have irked Thomas, as it seemed to irk other people- but it was only amusing. _We're malcontents, both of us, and aren't those the most interesting sorts of people?_

"Oh, let me out," Jimmy said, when they were in sight of the fields that distantly edged the estate. "Mr. Stark, stop, won't you? Mr. Barrow and I will walk from here," Jimmy went on, assuming Thomas's complicity in this new plan. "To give Ivy a bit of room," Jimmy added, plastering a terribly unconvincing expression of concern on his face.

Alfred had to climb out first, to let Thomas by- and when Thomas had gotten out Mr. Stark drove away. "Hey, wait!" Alfred said, as the car ambled away up the slope of a hill- " _I_ didn't want to walk-"

"Well we didn't want you to, either," Jimmy said, twirling his new cane and rolling his eyes at Thomas, behind Alfred's back.

"It's twenty minutes to the house from here," Alfred said, sorrowfully.

"Not if we run," Jimmy said- and then he pointed to the well-kept field that swept away to the right. In it a lone tree stood watch- kept for purposes of irrigation, or erosion- some _farming_ thing, Thomas couldn't remember what. The sky seemed very blue- and Thomas looked up at it for the space of a moment, slipping his hands into his pockets. He thought of how Jimmy had touched him, at the fair. And- and how Jimmy had said that he held Thomas's consideration of him so dear. Thomas smiled- and looked down from the lovely arch of the sky- to find Jimmy staring straight at him, in evident annoyance. "Well?" Jimmy asked.

"Pardon?' Thomas asked, and Jimmy made an irritated sound. "Well, forgive me for not hangin' on your every word," Thomas intoned- and Alfred laughed, a bit- but he covered his mouth with his sleeve.

"You should be," Jimmy retorted. "I _said_ , I'll race you both to that tree," here Jimmy indicated the lone tree in the field- "-and- to make it interesting-" Jimmy broke off, and fished around in his pockets, producing, after a long moment, two shillings. "Let's make a wager on it."

"Two shillings isn't _very_ interesting," Thomas said, and Jimmy glared at him. "It is for _some_ of us poor footman types," Jimmy answered.

"That's just because you always _spend_ all your money," Alfred offered, and Jimmy's glare moved to him, granting Thomas a temporary reprieve.

"I'm sorry, but it's true," Alfred said, staunchly, and Jimmy sneered without any real malice.

"Plus," Alfred added, matter-of-factly, "It doesn't seem very fair. Me against the two of you? I think I'll win. No offense meant, Mr. Barrow."

"None taken," Thomas said. "I think you'll win, too. In fact I wouldn't bet money against it."

"I know he'd _win_ ," Jimmy said, looking between them. "He's _gargantuan_. Alfred, your legs go up to my chest. But I wasn't thinking of betting on winners."

"Ah?" Thomas asked- though he knew Jimmy well enough to have an inkling of where he was going.

"Let's bet on losers, instead," Jimmy continued- and he smiled, rather sweetly, at Thomas.

"That sounds just fine," Thomas answered, matching his stare. "I've got two shillings on Jimmy, Alfred. How about you?"

"Uh-" Alfred looked back and forth.

"Keep in mind _Mr. Barrow_ is a bit _older_ than us," Jimmy said, smoothly, still holding Thomas's gaze. "And he smokes. A lot. Probably he's got weak lungs. Bad for running."

"Remember, now, Jimmy's much _smaller_ \- I mean- _shorter-_ than I am, and his little legs won't carry him too quick," Thomas said, smirking. For a beat neither he nor Jimmy dropped their eyes- and then, as if by mutual agreement, they both turned to Alfred, who looked quite uncomfortable.

"So how do you bet, then?" Jimmy asked- and Alfred looked away from him.

"If you bet against Jimmy and he loses, I'll give you my winnings," Thomas offered, and Jimmy inhaled sharply through his nose, his nostrils flaring. _That's right,_ Thomas thought, smugly- he knew Jimmy would never offer his own winnings for an incentive.

"You can't _undercut_ me," Jimmy said, indignantly.

"It's _not_ undercutting, it's-"

"You _know_ what I mean," Jimmy said, waving his hand at Thomas. "Alfred," Jimmy said, very seriously, "it doesn't _matter_ if he offers double, because _I_ won't come in last."

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," Alfred said, his brow furrowed, as if the matter he was pondering was of great weight. "But I'm going to put my coin on Mr, Barrow."

"Smart man," Thomas said.

"Bad choice, Alfred," Jimmy responded- and he shrugged off his jacket, dropping it onto the grass, with his cane- and so Thomas and Alfred followed suit. The three of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder, facing the tree, which was above them and some ways off, on an incline. Behind the tree the field sloped dramatically away, a pretty picture.

"On three," Jimmy announced.

"No," Thomas said. "Alfred, _you_ count."

"Uh- alright," Alfred said. "One... two... three!"

Jimmy took off like a shot- but Thomas was right on his heels, pushing himself to move _faster_ , to ignore any discomfort, so that he was born forward by will alone- and then Alfred, who had lagged at first, eclipsed them both. Thomas could feel nothing but his own feet thudding on the earth, and feel nothing but the air as he flew through it, trying to grab a breath- now he was on Jimmy's heels, now at his shoulder-

For a moment Thomas thought he wouldn't win- but then Jimmy turned- just _barely_ turned his head, to see if Thomas was gaining on him- and the tiny pause was all Thomas needed- he forced from his protesting body another burst of speed- and then, sprinting, he had pulled even with Jimmy- and then he was one step ahead-

Alfred skidded to a stop at the tree, beating them both by a good three seconds- but when Thomas reached the tree, a heartbeat before Jimmy, some impulse made him _keep_ running- and Jimmy ran after him- they both reached the downward incline on the far side of the hill. Thomas felt giddy, exuberant- for a moment weightless, despite his protesting muscles- and as he started down the brink of the slope, he thought- _It feels so wonderful, though-_

-and then Jimmy kicked his ankle, hard- and Thomas tripped, and fell forward, rolling down the hill. He rolled almost sideways, not hurt but indignant, and caught himself, on his forearms, at the very bottom. However Jimmy's cheating had not, it seemed, gone unpunished by fate- when he kicked Thomas he had evidently counterbalanced, from the force of throwing his leg forward so unevenly- and Jimmy fell as well, rolling toward Thomas in a blur, and only stopping when he slammed up against Thomas's prone body.

"Aughhhh," Jimmy said, lying next to him, and Thomas took long, deep breaths, trying to slow his racing heart. Beside him Jimmy panted.

"I win," Thomas said, when he could speak again- and Jimmy started, breathlessly, to laugh. "Fine, take my money," Jimmy said. "It was worth it to see you go flying down that hill-"

"You're mad, you know that?" Thomas asked, but he began to chuckle himself- and for a beat they both laughed, looking up the sky. "S'fine, isn't it," Jimmy said. Jimmy did not specify exactly what he meant, but his index finger came up, and he traced, with it, the outline of one fat cloud, hung atop the sun like a banner- and then Jimmy dropped his hand, suddenly, to the grass between them- and Thomas felt Jimmy's fingers curl around the gloved palm of his own left hand.

"What're you doing down there?" Alfred called, from up by the tree- and Jimmy pulled his hand away- and they both sat up.

"Just admiring the view!" Jimmy yelled back- and Thomas could make out Alfred shaking his head.

"You're both mad, you know that?!" Alfred yelled back, in reply- and then added, as if he had thought better of it: "No offense meant, Mr. Barrow!"

* * *

Thomas was woken out of a sound sleep- and for a moment, disoriented, he could not figure out if it was morning- but it was night, deepest night, and Jimmy was standing over him.

"Wake up, Mr. Barrow," Jimmy said- and Thomas squinted at him in the dark. "I thought I bolted my door," Thomas put back, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, you didn't," Jimmy said- and he sat down on the foot of the bed, gripping his knees with both hands. "I don't know why _you_ get a bolt anyways, _you're_ the molester, they should give me a bolt-"

"Is this what you came in here for?" Thomas asked- he was more than half tempted to simply lay back down, and pull the coverlet over his face until Jimmy went away. But then Jimmy cleared his throat- and Thomas realized that Jimmy was _shaking_ \- he could feel a tremor running through the other man, even from the end of the little cot.

"Jimmy," Thomas said, sitting up- and he put one hand to Jimmy's shoulder, leaning towards him. "What's the matter _?_ "

"What? Nothing's the _matter_ ," Jimmy said- though Thomas could not make out Jimmy's face clearly, he could have sworn that Jimmy's voice had a catch in it. "Nothing's the matter," Jimmy repeated. "We're just going to settle this, once and for all. Now pull down your pants."

"What?" Thomas asked, certain he had misheard. It had sounded patently as if Jimmy had told him to drop his pants. _Oh, you're having a dream, one of those illict Jimmy-dreams,_ Thomas thought- but it _felt_ like reality.

"I said, _drop_ your _pants_ ," Jimmy said again, in a precise undertone. "I can't sleep until you do."

" _What_? Jimmy, what are you-"

"I have to know," Jimmy said. "I'll make it interesting. A shilling if you're bigger."

"I don't understand," Thomas said- his eyes had mostly adjusted to the dark, and in it he could make out Jimmy's face- Jimmy wore an oddly serene expression, despite his shaking. Thomas could see that Jimmy's hands were still firmly gripped on his knees- but Jimmy rocked back, a bit, and said, with perfect tranquility: "It's hard to tell through trousers. An' I hardly ever see you in your nightclothes. Now come on."

"A shilling if I'm bigger," Thomas said, in consternation trying to make sense of Jimmy's words. And then Jimmy drew a long breath- and moved his left hand- up from his own knee, along his thigh, to cup himself, between his legs. "Of course you can't measure anything for certain unless you're hard," Jimmy went on, in reasonable tones. "Nn. So _do_ it. But I'm going to win-"

"I... I don't _think_ so," Thomas said, unsteadily. He felt like a slow pupil who had just caught on to a particular lesson- and with this new awareness he had the ability to proceed accordingly. "Two shillings. If you're right y'can make back the money you lost-"

"No," Jimmy said, lowly. Between his legs Jimmy's hand moved, very slightly- but Thomas could make out the movement, even in the dark- and it made his stomach bottom out, as if he were falling off of a much steeper incline that the one that they'd tumbled down that afternoon.

"See. You think you'll lose," Thomas said, leaning forward.

"No- I _don't_ ," Jimmy answered. He sounded distracted- but his eyes were fixed firmly on Thomas's face. "I'm just not _certain_ I'll win, and I can't afford to lose any more. You told me I needed to learn when to stop. I- I'm trying to be more responsible about my money..." Jimmy trailed off, for a moment, still looking into Thomas's face- and Thomas glanced down at Jimmy's hand, and felt himself blush so intensely that it was likely visible even in the dark. "Go on and do it, then, are we betting or not?" Jimmy whispered.

"Did you bolt the door?" Thomas asked- and Jimmy nodded. "I'm not an idiot, I- ah. Uh. Hmm. Go on, for God's sakes, Mr. Barrow, it's not that bloody difficult-"

"Yes. Alright," Thomas said. His throat felt very dry, suddenly. Watching Jimmy like that- the concentration on his face, outlined by shadow, had mostly done the job for Thomas already. "If you want me to."

"Of course I do, I made a wager on it, didn't I?" Jimmy asked- and Thomas reached down- his heart beating quickly in his chest- and gripped himself, through the cotton of his pyjama pants. _God,_ Thomas thought- but he kept any sound from escaping his mouth.

"Not under the blanket, that's cheating," Jimmy said- and he pulled the coverlet back between them, so that they both sat facing one another, equally visible.

"Oh," Thomas said, so quietly that he hardly spoke- but at his intonation Jimmy inhaled, sharply. "Your hair is in your eyes," Jimmy said- but when Thomas put his hand up to his own forehead, Jimmy grabbed his wrist- and Thomas tried not to make a sound, even at this small physical contact. "Leave it," Jimmy said, looking into Thomas's face. "Are you ready yet?"

"Give me another moment," Thomas said. His voice felt heavy and strange, but it sounded normal, in his own ears, and Jimmy nodded. "I... I think I'm there," Jimmy said, quietly- and he leaned up, a little- and pushed his cotton pants down to his very ankles. Jimmy's legs- finely muscled- were exposed- and Thomas's eyes moved up the lines of Jimmy's body, to where his erection jutted, rising almost straight up against his abdomen. Thomas's heart stuttered wildly in his chest, at the sight of so much beauty, and he thought- _Now don't make a fool of yourself- whatever you do-_

"Well?" Jimmy asked- he sounded a touch out-of-breath, but his tone was the same as always- low and a little bit demanding. "Come on, then."

"Right," Thomas said- and he pushed down his pyjamas, drawing a breath as they slid over his cock. He had scarcely completed the movement before Jimmy was leaning over him, studying his nakedness with a fixed intensity. Thomas felt _exposed_ , awfully exposed, by the scrutiny- but it was not unbearable: Jimmy was beside him, and every bit as vulnerable- it was _Jimmy_ who had stripped off his pants, first. Jimmy now made a sound like a sigh- but he didn't seem to know that he had done it- and Thomas bit the inside of his own lip. _Stay calm,_ he told himself, as firmly as he could, even though his body felt as if it were filled with electricity. _Stay calm and collected and remember the bet._

"Let's see," Jimmy muttered- and Thomas's pulse, already rapid, climbed another notch, as Jimmy shifted around on the cot- moving slowly, to sit beside Thomas. Even in the dimness Thomas could see that Jimmy's arousal was profound enough to limit his mobility. "Hmm," Jimmy said- his thigh pressed against Thomas's- and Thomas tried to hold still. _Oh, god, I can't_ , Thomas thought- but he shook his head- Jimmy was saying something.

"You're longer, but I'm- uh- thicker," Jimmy said, slowly- and Thomas, somehow, managed to scoff. "You are _not,_ " Thomas said- and Jimmy bent his head forward again, looking between them. "Yes. Yes I am," Jimmy answered. So close was Jimmy that Thomas could feel the other man's hair brushing against his own cheek.

"Maybe. Just a little _,_ though," Thomas returned. The tip of Jimmy's erection had a drop of clear fluid on it- a wordless betrayal of exactly how aroused Jimmy was- and Thomas's hands twisted in the bedsheets. _God, please,_ Thomas thought- he was caught- trapped by the desire that coursed through his body- pinning him in place on the bed and making his limbs feel heavy- and he kept his hands from reaching for himself- or Jimmy- by an act of will.

"It's a draw, then," Jimmy said- and Thomas nodded. "Pity," Jimmy went on. "I could've used that money."

"Life is full of disappointments," Thomas said- and Jimmy hit Thomas's shoulder with his, jostling him. "Don't be an arse," Jimmy answered. "Mr. Barrow, I- I'll wager five shillings that I can last longer that you."

"Pardon?" Thomas said, turning his head sharply, to look at Jimmy.

"I'll wager five shillings that I can last longer than you," Jimmy said. His eyes were fixed upon Thomas's body. "If we bring ourselves off," Jimmy added- his voice, but the end of the sentence, was a murmur, almost unintelligible.

"Ah- I thought you said you didn't have the money," Thomas replied, though his mind had gone utterly blank.

"About this I am confident," Jimmy answered- and his tone was just smug enough that Thomas stared him squarely in the face. Their eyes met- and then they both looked away from one another, in mutual embarrassment.

"How do we go about betting on this?" Thomas asked, as easily as he could. His abdomen had broken out in gooseflesh, and he could feel every hair on his torso rubbing against the cotton shirt that he still wore- and on his legs the sheets pressed, in a way that was terribly overstimulating.

"Um. Ah- we'll have rules," Jimmy said, ducking his head. "Y'have to do it- like _normal_. As if you were doin' it to yourself- alone. Uh. Like regularly."

"What makes you think I do it regularly?" Thomas asked- and Jimmy laughed. "Oh, _please_ ," Jimmy said, and his tone dripped sarcasm like honey.

"Alright, _alright_ , so- maybe I do- so we'll do it 'like regularly'," Thomas put back, trying for nonchalance. "And whoever- _lasts_ -"

"Gets five shillings," Jimmy said, looking at the wall- and then his gaze moved back to Thomas. "Exactly. But you have to-" Jimmy paused, squinting- and Thomas watched as Jimmy slowly rubbed his own hand against the back on his neck. Thomas ached to follow Jimmy's touch with his own- but he kept his hands firmly at his sides. "You have to keep- uh- _touching_ yourself the entire time. If you stop- even for a moment- or if _I_ stop- we forfeit the bet."

"I won't have any problem with that," Thomas said- and he smiled. He could feel Jimmy looking at him. "On three," Jimmy said- and he flexed his palm- and Thomas looked over, to see Jimmy take his own prick in his hand. It was, Thomas thought, the most arousing thing he'd ever seen- a lifetime of the wildest sorts of fantasies had not prepared him for this one moment, when Jimmy sat next to him on the rickety little cot. "One," Jimmy said- and Thomas moved his right hand, to touch himself, keeping his body braced against the mattress with his left. For an instant Thomas was grateful that Jimmy was pressed up next to him and not seated _facing_ him- the view would have been better- but also Jimmy would have been better able to see _him_ \- and Thomas was sure that he looked quite undone.

"Two," Jimmy said- and Thomas heard him draw a long breath, very deliberately. Jimmy readjusted his seating, slightly- Thomas felt every movement Jimmy made, where their upper legs pressed together.

"Three," Jimmy said- and Thomas felt Jimmy's arm bump against his side as Jimmy touched himself. _Oh,_ Thomas thought- his lips parted- he had been about to say something, some foolish romantic thing, borne of lust and love- but he stopped himself- and bit down on the inside of his cheek- a bit of pain to temper the pleasure.

Thomas was determined to win- the determination came over him, as powerful as his desire- and so he started off immediately, touching himself at an odd tempo- not the method he would have usually employed. "I want you to know... _hn_ \- I'm going to last longer than you," Thomas told Jimmy, without looking over at him- if he _looked_ at Jimmy, Thomas was afraid he would be done for, odd rhythm or no.

"No you aren't," Jimmy said, from where he sat, to Thomas's left- and his arm bumped against Thomas's arm, as Jimmy moved his hand back and forth. There was something _wrong_ about that- and Thomas looked over at Jimmy- and immediately regretted it. The sight was almost enough to do him in. Jimmy sat with his eyes half shut, and his lips drawn back, as if he were in pain- but his furrowed brow indicated concentration- and the blush that Thomas could see spreading down Jimmy's cheeks and throat even in the dim room suggested the most intense desire.

"Jimmy-" Thomas said- and Jimmy's arm bumped again his shoulder again.

"Nnn. Yes?" Jimmy said, flicking his eyes up to Thomas's.

"Aren't you _left_ handed?" Thomas asked- and Jimmy blinked, rapidly. "Ah, well," Jimmy said, looking guiltily away, "-I sometimes-"

"You're s-such a cheat, it's unbelievable," Thomas put back. "Switch your hand or lose your money."

"I...ah, _fine_ ," Jimmy said, with a catch in his voice- and Jimmy brought his left hand to stroke up and down the length of his hardon, dropping his right to his shirt-covered stomach. "Shite," Jimmy mumbled, as soon as he'd begun with the proper hand- and Thomas saw that with his other hand Jimmy rubbed his own abdomen, in circles. _He touches himself on the stomach when he does that,_ Thomas thought- and he had to bite down very hard on the inside of his cheek, to fight back the wave of all-consuming pleasure that wanted to crash through him. Thomas forced his eyes away, to his own hand- and then he moved his eyes to the wall, taking in every detail of the picture that hung there. _Those_ _trees,_ Thomas thought. _What kind are they? How many inches is that wooden frame? Think of anything, anything but what he's doing next to you-_

"Huh. _Thomas_ ," Jimmy said, "Thomas, _look_ at me-" and Thomas turned his head- to see Jimmy, meeting his gaze- Jimmy with his fingers wrapped loosely around his erection, moving his arm up and down- and his lips were parted- and he looked straight at Thomas- and his gaze and the image of his hand moving made Thomas's stomach feel very tight, suddenly. _No, no, no,_ Thomas thought- and he shut his eyes. "Th-that's not fair," Thomas said, through his teeth. "You can't- you know how I- _ah-_ how I feel-"

"Y-yes, that's why you're going to finish first," Jimmy whispered- his voice sounded uneven, now, as if he were fighting for breath- and Thomas could not help but open his eyes. Jimmy was _staring_ at him- his head turned, so that they were close enough to kiss- and Thomas wanted nothing so much as to wrap his hand around Jimmy's, and bring him to completion- but he kept his left hand firmly clutched on to the sheets.

"No, I won't," Thomas said, with more assurance than he felt. Jimmy's chest was heaving up and down- and Thomas saw that the speed of Jimmy's hand had increased.

"Ngh. Are you- are you close?" Jimmy asked- he moved his free hand from his own abdomen to clutch Thomas's trembling upper thigh- and Thomas knocked his hand away, with a groan. " _That's_ cheating, too," Thomas said.

"Sorry. Are you.. _.ah-_ close?" Jimmy asked, raggedly. "Because I- I could go for hours yet-"

"I- could go on like this for ages," Thomas said, tightly- but his voice broke, betraying him- and at the sound Jimmy made a wordless little noise, and leaned against Thomas, pressing his forehead to the edge of Thomas's shoulder. "Ah, Thomas, _god_ ," Jimmy said, against his skin- and Thomas watched as Jimmy's hand picked up speed- until it was a blur of motion in the darkness- and Jimmy lifted his hips up, talking against Thomas's skin. " _Shite,_ a-ah- _shite,_ Thomas, for god's sakes- _please_ -"

"Yes, that's right," Thomas said- he could hear nothing but Jimmy's voice- it was soft, but somehow even more all-consuming than the sound of his own hammering heart- and Jimmy's breath against his skin pushed him closer to the edge- and he tried to keep the movements of his hand deliberate, slow- but he felt himself slipping- his control was ruined- and Jimmy was moaning against him-

"Please, _please,_ oh, please, Thomas- _ah-_ please-" Jimmy said- and then he shuddered, his body slumping forward- and Thomas watched as Jimmy came, semen spilling over his fingers- and Jimmy rubbed himself again, and again, his brow furrowed, leaning forward as if he were wounded. "Ah, _christ_ ," Jimmy whispered- and he looked up at Thomas- with eyes that seemed as if they could not stay open. "Nnngh," Jimmy groaned- and he moved his hand once, twice more- and then stopped, his shoulders heaving with the force of his deep, rapid breaths.

"I- _hm-_ I guess I win," Thomas said, as lightly as he could- which was not very lightly at all- he was undone, he was almost coming himself- and then Jimmy moved- throwing his body over Thomas's outstretched legs. "You- you're _so_ \- god, _god_ ," Jimmy said- he was sitting in Thomas's _lap_ \- and he moved his face very close to Thomas's as he spoke. Jimmy leaned in, and put his right hand over Thomas's hand, gripping Thomas as he touched himself. " _Ah_ ," Thomas gasped, involuntarily, at Jimmy's fingers over his.

"Move your hand," Jimmy said, insistently- he looked as if he were not quite recovered- but at least he could speak- and he pressed against Thomas firmly. "Come on."

"Yes, alright," Thomas answered, unsteadily- and when he dropped his hand, with a colossal effort of will, Jimmy immediately put his left hand- still slick as it was- over Thomas's erection. The feeling was unbearable- and Thomas moaned- but Jimmy pushed his mouth against Thomas's mouth, capturing the sound in a kiss. "Yes, like that," Jimmy said, against Thomas's lips- and the press of their mouths and the feeling of Jimmy's hand on his cock was too much-

"Hn. _Ah-_ J-Jimmy I'm going to- Jimmy I _can't_ -" Thomas said- and Jimmy nodded, kissing him again. "That's right, please, god, you look _so_ -" Jimmy said- he was speaking into Thomas's ear- and Thomas could not _take_ it, could not take the feeling of Jimmy's fingers- and he thrust his hips forward into Jimmy's grip, saying something brokenly- he didn't know what- and then a feeling twisted through him- an overwhelming tightness- a terrible pleasure- it was all-consuming- and the pressure made him buck up against Jimmy, trying to gain more friction. " _Ah, god_ , nnnghhh yes," Thomas hissed- and Jimmy kissed his mouth. "That's right, do it," Jimmy said- and he bit down on Thomas's lower lip- and Thomas came, groaning, and rocking back and forth on the the cot.

"My god," Jimmy said, faintly, after a moment- and Thomas found that he could not yet form words- his ears were still ringing- but Jimmy pushed against his chest. "Lay down," Jimmy said- and Thomas complied, all but falling backwards onto the bed- and Jimmy followed him down, settling half on his chest.

"Uh," Thomas said, when he could speak again. "You... you owe me money."

Jimmy laughed. "Hmm. I haven't got any," he said, pressing his lips to Thomas's neck.

"You've got no honor," Thomas said- and he ran his hands through Jimmy's hair. It felt like silk beneath his fingers, and Jimmy sighed, at the touch. "I'll bet you all I owe you, and make up my debt," Jimmy said, quietly, moving his lips against Thomas's skin.

"Y'never learn," Thomas said, sleepily. "What'll we wager on this time, then?"

"Mmm. I'll bet you I _love_ you more than you love me," Jimmy replied, with a smile in his voice.

"That's a bet you're bound to lose," Thomas said. He felt as if a weight had been added to the weight he already carried in his heart- but it was a pleasant weight, an ache he'd always longed for. To love and be loved in return.

"But," Thomas added, "I wouldn't object to hearin' you make your case."

"I'm sure," Jimmy said, sounding inordinately pleased with himself- and Thomas smiled, and put his arms tightly around Jimmy.

"If you must know, Mr, Barrow," Jimmy said- "I love you more than the earth loves the sun, and more than children love carousels, and more than Mrs. Patmore loves food- I love you more than half-days and I love you more than I love _myself-_ and- and I love you more than I love _winning_ -"

"I am impressed," Thomas said. "More than _winning_?"

"Yes," Jimmy said, with a laugh in his voice. "Even that."

"I suppose I love you more than I love cigarettes," Thomas said, musingly. "Not _much_ more."

"Hmm. I wager I'll be ready to do _that_ again before you are," Jimmy said, leaning up on his elbows- and Thomas kissed Jimmy's face, because he could. "Mmm. No, you won't," Thomas said- and Jimmy looked into Thomas's eyes, with his lips curved into an expression of happiness.

"How much," Jimmy said- and the smile became a grin- "would you like to bet?"


End file.
